


L-O-V-E

by illhaveapepperonytogoplease



Category: Ocean's 8 (2018), Ocean's Eleven Trilogy (Movies)
Genre: Backstory, F/F, Fluff and Smut, Songfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-31
Updated: 2018-08-25
Packaged: 2019-06-19 04:05:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15501924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/illhaveapepperonytogoplease/pseuds/illhaveapepperonytogoplease
Summary: 'L' is for the way you Look at me.'O' is for the Only One I see.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I decided to try another songfic, I got this idea stuck in my head and couldn't get it unstuck. I might continue on with it (with the O-V-E and what they stand for) but I'm no positive yet. Thanks for the comments and kudos and for reading my work, it makes me so unbelievably happy I can't even begin to describe it. Have a great day :)

Without question, Debbie’s favorite way Lou looks at her is when she’s in the midst of an orgasm, soul entirely bare and exposed for only Debbie’s eyes to see.

The first time she’d seen Lou come, the way her own heart clenched and stomach twisted and arousal heightened, she knew it-Lou-was something extraordinary.

They’d known each other for all of twelve hours the first time they fucked-and Debbie liked to think it was ‘fucking’ but, again, Lou and her expression when she came sometimes made her question just how far back romance tinted their relationship.

They’d met on a hot summer Friday night at the bar of a rich club at which Debbie was so unbelievably drunk that she didn’t even bother with an alias, more than happy to say that _yes_ she was Debbie Ocean, daughter of the infamous Frank Ocean and sister of the up-and-coming Danny Ocean. Lou, who had been looking for a chance to make it in the criminal world, had taken the her back to her dingy apartment when a sweaty, blubbery forty year man old was getting too close to Debbie’s twenty year old self for comfort. Lou had been "such a gentleman"-in Debbie’s words-and hadn’t taken advantage of her incredibly inebriated self, instead letting her vomit in her bathroom, take her painkillers, and sleep in her bed fully clothed, although the skimpy and admittedly slutty dress she’d been wearing could hardly count as ‘fully clothed.’

When Debbie finally came to her senses the next morning, somewhere between her second and third cup of horribly bitter black coffee, and really took in Lou’s tempting form and downright fascinating blue eyes, she’d had her pinned to the wall before the blonde could even process what happened.

It’d taken Lou four seconds and a surprised gasp to reciprocate Debbie’s furious kiss, mouth opening and her fingers sliding through Debbie’s hair. The memory hadn’t come back yet but later Debbie figured out that it wasn’t their first kiss, because she’d kissed Lou like a drunken fool the night before when they were leaving the club and a small, hopelessly romantic part of her wished it had been different, wished that that memorable, mind-blowing kiss in Lou’s kitchen had been their first.

At the time, Debbie had been twenty; young, irresistibly sexy-knowing it-and experimenting with all sorts of lovers, so Lou hadn’t been her first woman by a long shot. And she could tell by the way Lou kissed her, the way her lips moved expertly down her neck, the way her knee pressed between Debbie’s thighs, she knew Lou hadn’t been a virgin either, despite the fact that she didn’t look a day over eighteen-which she hadn’t been, her eighteenth birthday was later that year.

They didn’t move off the wall for a solid twenty minutes, hands roaming and tongues plunging and breathing in gasps, wondering who would give in first and pull away. It’d been Lou, because Debbie wouldn’t back down from a challenge if it cost her her life, and Debbie hadn’t wasted a second in throwing Lou’s grey sleep shirt off her, grinning like the Devil possessed her when she realized the blonde hadn’t been wearing any underwear.

She was a quick learner; she learned the places Lou loved being kissed and sucked by quite literally not leaving an inch of her creamy, smooth skin untouched. By the time Debbie got on her knees, tongue grazing over Lou’s delicious bikini tan line, the Aussie had a hickeys covering her skin like a redhead had freckles.

Even with less than five minutes to do it, Debbie had memorized Lou’s body-it was such a magnificent one that it had been impossible to not have the image of her moaning, arching form burned into her retinas for all of eternity.

She didn’t ask about them but she saw the long scar above her belly button, the large rose tattoo on her left thigh, the birthmark under her right breast, the circular scar on her elbow, the tiny heart tattoo on the inside of her right thigh, less than an inch away from her clit, and she made sure to pay attention to that heart, reveling in being _so_ close to where she was needed most and yet just far enough that Lou’s fingers had to tug at her hair and guide her towards her dripping pussy.

Debbie hadn’t wasted a second with foreplay-“Life’s too short to waste it on slow sex”-and dove right in, the sounds that escaped Lou’s sinfully soft lips as her head slammed into the wall encouraging her. She didn’t need to be encouraged, Lou tasted better than the finest wine she’d ever drank, the slick heat between those smooth thighs, one of which rested over her shoulder, being reward enough for the pleasure her tongue was bringing. The first time Lou had let out a strangled, half-yelled, half-moaned, ‘ _Fuck_ ,’ Debbie became suddenly obsessed with making her scream.

It’d taken three minutes with a vigorous tongue fucking Lou, curling inside of her, licking up everything she had to offer, running hot and flat over her clit, flicking furiously as two fingers buried themselves into Lou’s hot, throbbing cunt, teeth grazing the sensitive nub a little too roughly to be ignored and she’d _screamed_.

Debbie had looked up right in time; Lou’s back arched, perky breasts pushed out, mouth open as she cried out in pure ecstasy, eyebrows slightly furrowed and eyes- _fuck_ -those eyes had been enough to make Debbie stay by Lou’s side for over two decades.

Half-lidded blue orbs had bore into Debbie’s soul, the raw passion in them still as clear as if it’d been yesterday, so intense and pleading and in awe that Debbie's never forgotten that look-it'd kept her up some nights, eased her into sleep others, encouraged her heist plans in jail, influenced more of her life than she'd ever care to admit.

Debbie had never received a look like that; one that made her feel like she was the only person in Lou’s world, the only one who could make her feel that way, the only one who ever brought that look out of her, the only one who she would ever need.

It’d been the first time she’d gotten the Look, although definitely not the last, because Lou did it every she came even up to present day. She didn’t realize she did it, but Debbie certainly would never tell her because the Look was the one major reason Debbie loved sex as much as she did, to get that look from Lou, to know that _she_ caused it.

She’d never tell Lou that she loved her most when she was coming because that made her sound shallow and purely sex-driven but she _did_.

She’d kill to see that look on Lou’s face as she came because she couldn’t ever get enough of it-couldn’t get enough of feeling like she fit with someone so perfectly, feeling like she was the center of someone’s world, feeling like she belonged. It was the only time she ever got to see Lou stare at her like that, so open and bare and vulnerable and undoubtedly in love, and it made Debbie fall a little harder each time, even after  _decades_  of seeing it.

She’s absolutely positive that if she hadn’t been hungover that morning, she probably would’ve fallen in love-without realizing it-just because of the way a mysterious Australian named ‘Lou’ had looked at her when she’d given her a breathtaking orgasm.

An image is worth a thousand words, and the mental one of Lou was all Debbie had needed for over twenty years.

<><><><><><><><>

The first time Lou realized she was hopelessly in love with Debbie, it’d been in the middle of what the brunette considered to be the most unattractive part of the day; morning.

When Debbie wakes up, her entire persona is different and Lou adores her like a lovesick idiot for it. Debbie would smile sleepily and cling tighter to Lou and hum low in the back of her throat and groan a childish sound and when she opened her eyes, it was as if she was a newborn baby, testing out her eyelids for the first time.

They’d known each other for about five months the first time Debbie had allowed herself to fall asleep in the same bed as Lou. In those five months, they’d robbed two liquor stores on a whim, three jewelry stores with minimal planning, one convenience store by flirting with the cashier, and fucked more times than they could count. Their futures only contained two things for certain; illegally gained money and sex, which made them soulmates from the beginning because both were more than happy to help the other cover either of those topics.

Lou didn’t push it, but she knew Debbie had trust issues, whether it be with partners as con partners or partners as fuck buddies. The Ocean had a scar from where she had been quite literally stabbed in the back by one of her con partners and she often had little bruises or scratches or marks from the various fuck buddy partners she was seeing at the same time as Lou. It hadn’t mattered then that Debbie had been seeing other people, Lou had been seeing other people too, and they just happened to keep falling back into each other’s beds every week, con after con. They were both too young and dumb to think their connection was anything further than quick tongues, quicker fingers, and the best orgasms of their lives.

When Debbie finally trusted Lou enough to actually, literally sleep with her, they had just robbed a house they'd been watching for a few weeks right outside of Los Angeles, taking over three grand in cash, and had returned back to Lou’s apartment to celebrate for the rest of the night.

The heist hadn’t run smoothly at all; the cops had shown up when Debbie was still inside and Lou’d had every chance to speed off on her motorcycle but she hadn’t, she wasn’t the type of person to abandon anyone. She’d waited for Debbie to jump onto the back, so close to an officer that she could see the pathetic attempt of a beard on the scrawny boy’s face and they’d tore through side streets and Californian suburbs, tracing and retracing and tracing their paths over and over again until they were absolutely positive the police had been thrown off their trail. Debbie had thanked her generously for sticking around-even to this day Lou’s not sure how many times she came-and stayed the night, sleeping soundly next to the blonde in her bed for the first time.

Lou had woken up bright and early the next morning, nearly flying out of bed when she felt Debbie in it with her, and had about half an hour to watch her sleep. She'd never even seen Debbie with her eyes closed, never had the chance to truly admire her beauty or take in every detail of her face without feeling like Debbie would call her out on staring so she used every moment of that morning to commit her features to memory.

If Debbie waking up was her favorite, Debbie asleep was her second favorite-and not in the ‘haha, she only ever shuts up when she is asleep’ type of way.

She looked peaceful when she was sleeping and it calmed Lou to know that even if Debbie’s conscious self was constantly unsettled, she found some release for all her restlessness in sleep. Five months wasn't long to know someone, but Lou was perceptive and she knew unease when she saw it, and Debbie wore unease like a second skin. But in her sleep, her features relaxed, stress and worry and tension disappearing, and she had a small grin on her lips, smooth cheeks barely raised with the little smile. She held on tight to whatever was in arm’s reach, whether that be Lou, a pillow, or the blankets, and refused to let go. Her hair-which had been shorter then-framed her face perfectly, barely fluttering with each steady exhale, nearly black against Lou’s white pillowcases.

When Lou pressed a gentle kiss to Debbie's temple, right above the scar next to her left eyebrow, she'd begun to stir.

She’d woken up slowly; eyebrow barely twitching and eyes slowly opening, eyelids reluctant to move as her whole body stiffened in a yawn, which eventually made her wake up entirely when she had to cover her mouth to stifle the sound.

The way she looked at Lou-the way she still looks at Lou when she wakes up-was one of the most heartwarming images imaginable and it'd thrown Lou through a loop and a half that morning.

Warm, kind brown eyes, still hazy from sleep, slowly focusing in on her and looking at her as if she had just built the entire universe never failed to make Lou’s heart leap and that morning, her heart had nearly jumped to the moon. Say what you will about blue eyes being beautiful, but the only ones worth seeing are Debbie’s half-asleep and tired brown ones, in Lou’s humble opinion. When Debbie's waking up, she didn’t realize she needed to put guards up and shut people out and tear herself down; she was nearly innocent first thing in the morning, unafraid to let her eyes show all her emotions freely. Lou’d never been an expert on emotions herself, but she knew pure adoration when she saw it and Debbie’s look that morning, and every morning, was more than simple adoration.

When Debbie looked at her that morning, Lou’s breath had caught somewhere in the back of her throat and her mind had been unable to function properly and all she’d been able to do was kiss Debbie because that’s all they knew how to do-love each other physically. Lou hadn't expected that Look from Debbie but once she got it, she couldn't stop wanting it.

To this day, Lou wakes up early, sometimes _way_ too early, just to see Debbie in her most innocent, unguarded form because if there’s ever a doubt in her mind about their relationship, one millisecond of staring into fearlessly loving eyes changed it. Lou inexplicably loved to be looked at like that; to know Debbie, somewhere deep down in a subconscious part of her brain, loved her so passionately, so freely, so shamelessly. No one had ever looked at her like that and she knows no one else will-no one else could come close to having eyes so unbelievably beautiful as Debbie's-no one  else could make her feel like she was the reason they breathed-no one else could take her breath away at the idea that their love is mutual.

If the last thing she saw before she died was that Look, she’d die the happiest person on the planet.

Unfortunately, the Look never lasted more than a couple seconds because Debbie was always so aware of where she was, and who she was, and why she was somewhere, but for those few moments Lou got to see a side that Debbie never showed anyone, a side buried so deep she probably didn’t even realize she had it.

In those few seconds at the crack of dawn, Lou's able to see that Debbie loves her more than any string of words could try to convey and that was enough, really, Debbie didn't need to say anything because love for her was all in the way she looked at Lou.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'O' is for the Only One I see

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it's taken me forever to update this, but I've been busy with college starting. Thanks so much for all the sweet comments and kudos and encouragement on this fic and others-I hope you enjoy. Have a beautiful day :)

Lou’d never had an eye for artwork.

To her, a painting was a painting, a sculpture was a sculpture, a building was a building, and in the long run, they were all materials that would one day fade from their unworthy fame and turn back into dust with time. The only expensive artwork she thought worth mentioning was jewelry and even that didn’t have to be real, because-honestly-who takes the time to check if your diamond necklace is genuine or if your gold ring is authentic? Absolutely no one but a jeweler when you’re trying to sell them something.

That’d always been one main difference between Debbie and Lou; Debbie knew priceless when she saw it and Lou only appreciated priceless when she had it.

Which was why when she and Debbie wound up at the Louvre Museum in 1994, shortly after a robbery in Italy that put half a million in both of their bank accounts, Lou had been bored out of her mind.

She just...she didn’t _care_.

She was unimpressed simply by looking at the appearance of the palace-turned-museum. It’s beauty meant nothing to her. An old, elaborately designed building? Wow, there’s about a million of those throughout the world. Glass pyramid? Who gave a shit? It’s melted sand and metal framework. Big Whoop.

And the pieces inside meant even less. The Mona Lisa? She was ugly; no eyebrows, a bit pudgy, lazy eye, and could stand to use some makeup. The sculpture of Aphrodite didn’t have arms and the Goddess of Victory didn’t have a fucking _head_. Napoleon’s coronation painting was a joke in itself; how many times had the French people exiled the short bastard only to have his painting proudly on display in their country? And the rest blended together into dark color schemes, pale faces, long features, big eyes, and bad hair styles.

Debbie, however, had been completely enamoured.

Oceans generally stuck to crime in the United States, although they occasionally ventured down south-but that was more for their distant relations with Colombian cocaine smugglers than anything else-so she’d never been to France before. Danny had taken Tess to Paris for their honeymoon, her being a museum curator made the Louvre the Mecca of art galleries for her, and Debbie still resented him a little for it; she’d always wanted to go there and he knew it. So the first opportunity she’d gotten to travel to Europe, she did; at twenty-four, she stole a million dollars worth of trinkets-useless, old pieces of garbage, in Lou’s mind-from the National Archaeological Museum in Naples, Italy. When their flight from Naples to Paris landed, they had received news that their flight into JFK just _happened_ to be cancelled and they were rebooked for the next day, so _whoops_ , they were stuck in Paris with absolutely nothing to do.

Lou didn’t believe in coincidences-she knew exactly what Debbie had done-but she didn’t really mind, either. The airline paid for their hotel and they picked enough money off of dumb tourists to buy themselves a nice lunch. They wandered aimlessly for a few hours, Debbie constantly tripping over the cobblestone streets because she was looking up at everything-she could probably map out the entire city based on every angel carved into the corners of buildings and every gargoyle on a ledge.

And when they just _happened_ to wander straight up to the Louvre Museum, after seeing the world’s most famous telephone tower-some call it the Eiffel Tower, whatever-Lou knew she’d have to curb her hatred of meaningless artwork and smile along with whatever compliments Debbie gave the pieces.

Debbie’s high heels clicked on the marble floor and Lou listened to her gait, slightly faster than normal, as she approached each piece of artwork, looking at them like she was witnessing the second coming of Jesus Christ.

When they reached the room with the Mona Lisa, it had been _packed_ and Debbie hadn’t bothered to stop and admire any of the other gold-framed pieces, she clicked her way straight into the group of people crowding around the painting. Lou’d lost her for a few minutes, not willing to shove her way through the mass to reach Debbie, ridiculing each tourist with their fanny packs and knee-high socks in her mind as various languages were spoken around her, everyone largely ignoring the thin Australian who stole over one hundred Euros from their pockets as she slowly made her way to the front of the group.

Debbie was right in front of the Mona Lisa, hands resting on the velvet rope that kept people from the wooden banister, mouth curved with the most in-awe smile Lou’d ever seen, brown eyes glued to the priceless piece of art.

Lou couldn’t take her eyes off Debbie as she and everyone else stared at the Mona Lisa because with that confident, proud stance, Tommy Hilfiger shirt, skin tight Levi jeans, oversized Reebok sports jacket, and Ray Bans holding her hair back, she looked so unbelievably... _American_. It sounded dumb; Lou knew Debbie was American, everything from her accent to capitalist mindset screamed ‘land of the free, home of the brave,’ but she’d never really thought of her as synonymous with the term. The same way no one thought of Lou as Australian; she didn’t wrestle kangaroos or surf or put shrimp on the barbie.

But, fuck, if Debbie wasn’t the most American thing since Washington crossing the Delaware-even in a crowd that was probably half American, she stood out like a red, white, and blue thumb. 

It'd given 'American dream' a whole new meaning to Lou.

Debbie's lips had been parted, as if she had to breathe through her mouth because the painting had left her too breathless to inhale through her nose, and remained curled in a smile for the rest of the day, ingenious mind not able to comprehend the things she’d seen. Her eyes had always been one thing that drew Lou to her because they were so free with showing her emotions, even if it wasn’t for the better, and they were so utterly entranced by the piece of artwork before her that they'd practically been sparkling. Everything about her-the scar beneath her eyebrow, the slight crease at the corner of her eyes when she smiled, the round curve of her cheeks, the perfectly styled brunette tresses that framed her face-made the world fade away, made Lou feel like it was only her and Debbie in that moment.

It was kind of ironic; she had been in front of the most famous painting in the world, standing in a room that would be heaven for any con artist if they could have five minutes alone in it, surrounded by a ton of pushy tourists, and the only one she'd seen was Debbie.

She was so breathtakingly beautiful that Lou couldn’t even speak properly when Debbie was finally finished gawking at the painting, approaching her with a satisfied, satiated look on her face, white teeth shining with her smile in the well-lit gallery. She'd smiled wider when Lou took her hand, lacing their fingers together, and given her a curious look when Lou kissed her, a little too long for it be appropriate in public, but Lou hadn't cared-if she hadn't kissed her, she would've said three words that neither were ready to hear.

When they exited the Louvre Museum hand-in-hand, Debbie had pulled a camera out of thin air and asked Lou to take her picture in front of the palace-one to smuggle to Danny in jail, to rub it in his face that he'd wasted a great opportunity to be with  _her_ for Tess.

The photo was quite possibly Lou's favorite of all time; Debbie's mischievous eyes, middle finger up and tongue sticking out for her older brother's amusement, the wind blowing her hair in front of her face, her clothes that fit perfectly, the blur of tourists in the background but clear image of her in front of them.

Fuck Leonardo da Vinci, the only artwork of any worth was Debbie.

<><><><><><><><>

A few years after she met Lou, the Aussie confessed to something that both shocked and horrified Debbie; she had never seen a movie.

She understood the most famous one’s basic plots and knew a few characters but she’d  _never_ sat through one beginning to end or stepped foot inside of a movie theater or even watched T.V. for more than five minutes at a time. Between controlling foster families, running away, living off the grid, and committing crime, she’d never had a chance to enjoy a film because she’d been been trying to survive her entire life; movies were a luxury to someone who was lucky to have a roof over their head.

So Debbie had changed that-immediately.

Lou’d told her around three in the afternoon of a Friday and that same day, Debbie stole two tickets for the opening night of "Jurassic Park." She hadn’t given a shit what the movie was about, she had just taken advantage of the careless pimply kid working the ticket booth and picked the first two tickets she saw, happening to get lucky with choosing a future classic film.

Lou had laughed when Debbie drug her to the local theater, so quickly that she hadn’t even had a chance to straighten her hair, the then-long blonde mane frizzing from the humid Detroit heat of early June. She was still wearing a faded grey tank she’d been lounging around in all day and her leather shorts clung to her ass in a way that, combined with the eccentric jewelry collection she wore, had attracted attention from anyone who glanced at her, but that hadn’t mattered. Debbie was only focused on Lou and her unreadable expression as they entered, buying popcorn with someone else’s money and walking into the full theater, finding two seats together at the very top row in the right corner.

Lou had lounged back in the uncomfortable theater chair like she was royalty, chin parallel with the ground as she looked around the packed theater, appearing somewhat bored as she inspected every movie-goer with her steely eyes. Her curious features were barely tinted pink with sunburn from trying to get a proper summer tan but her eyes were as cool as ever, gazing over the crowd like she was inherently superior to them.

She wasn’t arrogant, she couldn’t control the way Debbie had perceived her expression, but the way she seemed thoroughly unamused by the entire movie thing up to that point had made Debbie a little nervous that maybe movies just weren’t ever going to be Lou’s thing-that she’d be unamused and disappointed the entire time.

But the second the lights faded and a hush fell over the crowd, Lou had sat up a little, eyes sparkling with something so innocent and wondrous and anticipating and child-like that Debbie hadn’t given a shit about the people around them or the movie on the screen, she could only watch Lou.

Lou barely noticed Debbie for the first twenty minutes; her eyes were glued to every square inch of the screen, as if she had to memorize every detail of each frame, pupils flitting over the images being projected before her like they were the most fascinating thing she’d ever seen. She didn’t reach for the popcorn or take a sip of their Coke or even blink-she hadn’t cared about anything but the movie.

Sometimes, most of the time, Debbie forgot that Lou was so young-that, really, they both were so young.

They’d grown up fast and always tried to be older than they were and more than they could be. But when the lights from the screen illuminated Lou’s face, for the first time in three years Debbie had focused on nothing but her and she couldn’t look away, it didn’t matter than a thrilling movie was playing or that the guy in front of her was ten feet tall or that the woman next to her was morbidly obese and should probably have two chairs to herself-Lou was the center of Debbie’s entire world at that moment.

There wasn’t an imperfection on her face; no creases around her eyes or lines on her forehead or acne scars on her cheeks. The shadows cast on her skin were smooth, lighting up her features in different colors as the movie played. Her lips, which always formed an irresistible pout as she rested her face, had been barely parted as if she was about to say 'wow.' Long, thick blonde eyelashes fluttered every second and they were  _so_ perfect, so gorgeously accentuating her sapphire blue eyes that Debbie had almost been drooling over her. Lou's hair, which had been down to her shoulder blades then, was frizzy and slightly curled just from the walk to the theater and Debbie couldn’t help the grin that spread across her face because Lou hated it when her hair wasn’t exactly how she wanted it, straight and flat, but she looked more relaxed when not entirely put together.

Finally, after Alan and Ellie got to see the field full of dinosaurs and the soon-to-be world famous Jurassic theme played, she had turned to Debbie, mouth open to say something but unable to speak, words lost somewhere in her pure amazement.

It’d been one of the most humbling experiences of Debbie’s life.

Lou was so...normal, so at ease in all settings, so  _brilliant_ , so like Debbie in ways that were a little unnerving, that Debbie hadn’t ever taken a moment to consider Lou’s childhood and how deeply it affected her.

Lou’d been born to a cocaine addict and an unnamed father, the place on her birth certificate was blank, but when Lou was three, her mother married the closest thing to a steady father figure she’d have in her tragic childhood. Two years later, her mother shot him when she was too high to realize what she was doing, and promptly took her own life the next morning when she saw what she’d done. From then on, it’d been foster family to foster family and Lou learned how to keep her head down, blend in with crowds, and be overlooked in those years of horrendous families who took their check from the state and didn’t give a shit about the orphans they were supposed to take care of. She’d been on her own since she was fourteen-at that time, Debbie hadn't known it was because she’d been raped by her last foster father, she’d learn that a few years later-and struggling was a light term when it’d come to describing Lou’s financial state until she got to America. She’d illegally taken a cargo ship from Australia to Shanghai, where she lived off the streets for a few years and learned Chinese, until she was sixteen and made it to Los Angeles on another cargo ship.

It made sense that Lou had never seen a movie when Debbie really thought about it, but it was still somewhat surreal to know Lou, who had been halfway around the world in her near-twenty years of life, had never seen a movie. 

Lou had been so enthralled, it made Debbie dread the end of the film because that meant a return to a world where there were things other than just Lou's magnificent beauty, somewhere that would take away the trance that had fallen over both of them, a reality that distracted her from Lou, a place that made Debbie look away from the only one she wanted to see.


End file.
